


Why are men like this?

by Gozzer



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Genderfluid Crowley, M/M, Nanny Ashtoreth & Brother Francis, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, This isn't good for Crowley, Threats, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 13:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20136103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gozzer/pseuds/Gozzer
Summary: Crowley knew how bad humanity could be sometimes. Just not how bad to some of the women of the world.





	Why are men like this?

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a nice fic. There is going to be rape and sexual harassment. Trigger warnings are there for a reason. I'm sorry about doing this to Crowley, but the idea was just floating in my head. Apologies.

Over the years Crowley had been both a male and a female; and he prefers to be male but he enjoys being female as well. When deciding who should be the Nanny for young Warlock, Crowley took the job while Aziraphale was the gardener. Taking on the more feminine role and style fit him more than it did the angel; even though he was more fit to take care of the gardens than the angel. The poor angel didn't know how to raise a child or flower. So the role of Nanny became his, which worked out fine because children loved him for some reason. Turns out it was more than children that liked him.

The day she showed up at the Dowling residence she was covered head to toe to avoid having prying eyes on her. She knew some of what men, and just humans in general, were like to women. She made sure that all of her clothes covered her and hid everything from view, but it did little to help. The rest of the staff in the house was generally polite, she mainly spent time with Warlock and a few maids while in the house, with the exception of a few men that worked on the house. But they were never anything too disgusting. The same couldn't be said about the couple of men that worked as chauffeurs and the few that worked out in the garden under Brother Francis.

The first day she stepped into the house she could feel eyes following her. A prickling sensation that rubbed her the wrong way; that nothing had done in thousands of years. It disappeared once she joined little five year-old Warlock in the living room and hardly bothered her when they were together. The small child was like a natural deterrent from unwanted gazes. He was bright and lively, always asking questions, with nay a worry in the world. Nanny Ashtoreth became the boys favorite person in the house; and became the object of obsession by a few others.

It started off with simple looks and quips to the men next to them. She could ignore them like she did everything else that wasn't related to the job of raising the Antichrist. Could go from her room in the house to outside in the gardens to talk with the plants without a problem; they were never up passed a certain time at night anyway. Even during the day she hardly came in contact with the men. So it was so easy to ignore them with a roll of snake eyes and huff of breath. Hell, she hardly heard what they were saying anyway. If only it lasted longer than a few months.

Ashtoreth stepped through the glass door leading to the gardens to find Brother Francis. It was time for Warlock to spend the next couple of hours with the dirty gardener while she supervised from a blanket in the lawn. The poor boy didn't want to be without her for more than a few minutes at a time so they compromised on her staying outside with him. The blanket she always used was laid out on the perfect grass while Warlock ran off to the hedges where Francis was trimming them; even though there wasn't a need. She sat with her legs off to the side and just underneath her, skirt covering her feet and hiding her from the sun. The hat she usually wore was sitting atop Warlock's head for he just begged and begged to wear it. While her usual sunglasses were in place on her face and shielding her yellow eyes from the burning sun. (Which wasn't really burning. It was actually quite nice to feel and soak up after being cooped up in the house for so long. Being cold-blooded really wasn't ideal at times.) 

She made sure to keep the boy in her sights, but didn't try too hard. Francis kept him safe and entertained for most the time they were outside so she didn't have to worry as much. It was such a lovely day that she didn't really feel the need to be watching him anyway, he was fine and well taken care of. Instead of following the boy racing through the hedges she closed her eyes and tilted her head up the sun. The warmth washed over her and did wonders to relax her muscles. She was so invested in the sun that she missed the approaching footsteps. But not the shadow that fell over her and blocked the light.

Snapping open her eyes and tilting her head down she saw what was casting the shadow. A young man by the name of Charles Vand that helped tend to the gardens. Short blonde hair and clear blue eyes and stood well over Ashtoreth in terms of height. Not the least bit intimidated she glared up at him through her sunglasses. The man just smiled down at her like she wasn't trying to pierce him with her eyes.

"What are you doing out here, Lilith? I don't see Warlock anywhere." He looked across the gardens before looking back down to her.

"It's Ms. Ashtoreth." The icy tone did little to dampen the smile on the man's face. If anything it got just the tiniest bit sharper. "And Warlock is playing in the hedges. Now, you best be off." She didn't like when anyone interrupted her sunbathing; or interrupted her in general. 

"Don't be like that. I'm just trying to make conversation. Can get mighty boring out here by ones self." Charles had yet to move out of the way of sun, still blocking her line of sight from anything in the moment. "It's quite hot out here. Why don't you shed some layers, Lilith?" His gaze traveled down from her face down to where a coat covered her chest and the heavy skirt covering her legs. Disgust washed over her and made her glare get colder and harsher; not that the man noticed.

"You best be off, Mr. Vand. And back to you duties." It was best to just ignore him and not let the comment bother her. If need be she could always miracle him away from her; even if Francis would reprimand her. 

"Now, don't be like that," he repeated. Eyes found their way back up to her face, the smile on his face turning more for a smirk. "I'm only teasing. Pretty thing like you looks good in whatever you're wearing. Even if it is a lot of layers for the weather." 

The words made her skin crawl want to disappear from the conversation. A heavy layer of disgust settled on her and clung to her clothes like a second skin. This was the first actual time she heard what the men on the property were saying. And while it was nothing particularly demeaning or objectifying it still brought a gross taste to her mouth. 

"Though it is nice to see you without that hat you're always wearing." Charles continued to talk as if nothing he said was in the wrong. "Those of curls of yours are a sight to see." 

She almost subconsciously reached up for where her hat was usually resting on her head. The twitch of her hands went unnoticed by the man thankfully. Her curls were pinned back like they usually were, not one out of place. The long strands never left the style unless she was alone in her room; no one should be able to tell that she actually had curls with the way they were placed. Every piece was put together carefully and hidden unless she was in her room. 

"It would be nice to see those eyes of yours that you keep hidden. Probably some exotic color, huh?" 

The snake eyes hiding behind the glasses looked away from Charles and across the lawn. There's got to be a way to get him away without doing a miracle. Her out appeared in the form of a small boy racing towards her with something clutched in his hands. Following behind him was the dirty figure of Brother Francis. 

"Nanny! Look what I found!" Warlock flopped down on the blanket next to her and dropped the little ring snake in his hands. Charles stopped talking the second the boy came into view and was glaring down at him. 

"Oh, a snake. Such lovely creatures." She picked up the animal and ignored the man standing above them. The little creature curled around her gloved fingers like it knew she too was a snake. 

"We were having a conversation, Mr. Warlock." Irritation was clear in Charles' voice but the little boy didn't seem to notice. Warlock looked up from the snake to the blonde man and tilted his head to the side. For several moments they just stared at one another before the arrival of Francis broke the silence.

"G'day Ms. Ashtoreth." The dirty man smiled down at her softly before looking to Charles. "Ah, Charles! What ever were you two talking about?" If he didn't offer an escape, Ashtoreth would've turned her glare on the gardener but she instead kept it on the man bothering her.

"Nothing to important. Just the weather," Charles said. The politeness in his tone brought in another bad taste that she couldn't clear away. There was nothing polite about this man. 

"If it's all the same to you, Brother Francis," she started to rise to her feet and face the gardener, "it's time for Warlock to go back in the house." She took care to ignore the gaze following her every movements as she picked up the blanket off the ground. The little snake in her hand was placed in Francis' without a trouble before she ushered Warlock towards the house. The prying eyes trailed after her all the way back to the house and she couldn't shake the feeling away even after she passed through the glass doors.

After the first encounter she started to hear everything being said. Every passing comment about her body, every lewd remark, every suggestion about what she might be like in bed or how she looked without her clothes. It made her skin crawl and sick but it was nothing she couldn't ignore. Sure it was disgusting and demeaning, but she hadn't been on Earth for six thousand years for nothing. So yes, the comments made her uncomfortable, made her want to cause them harm, but she knew how to go about life with closed ears.

When the year mark of them coming to work for the Dowlings passed, and nothing more than a couple of ignored conversations happened, she thought that things were going great. Little Warlock was being guided in both good and bad by them and was doing just fine. The kid got into a little bit of trouble but nothing too disastrous that couldn't be fixed. Brother Francis continued to 'garden' and Nanny Ashtoreth made sure that the boy was taken care of. 

The following fall after Warlock's sixth birthday brought in tutors and school. Which meant that for three hours a day Ashtoreth was left on her own with nothing to do. Just after lunch the boy was whisked off and not to return until three; leaving her to find something to occupy her time. At first it was spent cleaning up after Warlock and sipping tea just outside in the sun. She got two months of peace before it got too cold for her to be outside for three hours at a time. Then she settled in the kitchen to read and wait for Warlock before that was ruined. 

The tea in her hands was warm and nice compared to the cold air outside. She was sitting at the kitchen table like usual with some book Francis had let her borrow. It wasn't anything super interesting but it wasn't so boring that she couldn't read it. Francis had recommended it back in the seventies; said he didn't like it but she would probably enjoy it. And well it wasn't terrible. 

Just as she was getting to the end of her tea something made her pause; if only for a second. Someone was watching her. Like every time before she pretended it wasn't there and went on with her reading. The minutes ticked by before someone sat down next to her. 

"You must be Nanny Ashtoreth, right?" A polite voice spoke from next to her that had her sighing and looking over. Sitting next to her was an older man with black hair that was starting to turn grey on the temples and dark eyes that didn't leave her face. "I'm Vincent, the new cook."

"Yes, I am. Welcome to the Dowling household, Mr. Vincent." She kept herself polite and nice even if a bit cold to keep the man from getting familiar. While he seemed nice enough she had no desire to talk with him. 

"Ah, just Vincent please." He offered her a small nod and smile as if to ease her into a conversation. Instead of saying any more she went back to her book and empty tea cup. "What is such a lovely woman like yourself doing down in the kitchen by herself?" The once peaceful air in the room grew tense and cold as she turned a glare to the man. 

"That is none of your concern." She closed her book and made to stand from the table. This place was ruined so now she had to find somewhere else to spend her time. But before she could even get up a hand wrapped around her wrist in a tight grip. 

"I was just wanting some company. There's no need for you to leave." Instead of answering she grabbed the man's hand and pulled it off her wrist; harsher than the man anticipated. She tossed his hand away from her and stood up to finally leave the kitchen. Before she could get more than a few steps the same hand was being wrapped around her upper arm. "It's rude to ignore someone trying to talk to you."

"Do not touch me." She pulled off the tight hand and dropped it back to his side. As she made for the door again Vincent took her arm and spun her to face him. Gone was the polite smile and calm demeanor. In its place was a red face with a glare and deep frown. 

"You don't get to walk away from me. I was just trying to be nice to you." Both his hands found their way onto her wrists and tugged her towards him harshly. "You need to learn some manners." 

Several different thoughts raced through her mind at what to do about this situation. She wasn't afraid for she could easily kill this man with just a thought, but she couldn't just kill him. Instead she tried pulling away from him with more strength than he thought possible for such a skinny woman. But he held fast to her wrists despite this. She struggled harder and got one hand free long enough to try and get her other loose. What she didn't expect from Vincent was the sharp stinging coming from her cheek as her head snapping to the side. With a single snap of her fingers she was free from the man and taking a step back from him. The glasses she usually wore were askew on her nose, allowing just the smallest bit of her eyes to peak out in a glare. 

She didn't say a word as she fixed the glasses with anger simmering just under her skin. Vincent stood frozen in front of her for time had seized to move in her anger. Never before had someone dared to lay a hand on her in such a manner, and she wasn't going to stand for it. With another snap of her fingers time resumed flowing and she was disappearing out the back door into the garden. The shouts coming from the man did little to stop her from crossing the lawn to where Brother Francis' cottage was on the edge of the grounds. Every step she took melted away Nanny Ashtoreth until a pissed off Crowley burst through the door. 

Gone were the heavy skirts and thick coats, the tights and flat shoes, and the stupid curls pinned back. In there place were tight skinny jeans and a thin T-shirt with nice dress shoes. The curls were replaced by his usual spiked up short hair that seemed to flame brighter in his anger. Without a word he threw himself down on the bed in the corner of the room; face pressed into the pillow while his glasses appeared sitting next to him. Sitting in a chair next to the bed Aziraphale closed his book and waited for the demon to gather his thoughts. Which took barely a second before he was turning his glare to the angel.

"Men deserve to burn in Hellfire." He grit his teeth and balled the blanket underneath in his hands. It had been a long time since he had wanted to kill anyone and even longer since the thought of torture passed through his mind. 

"What happened, my dear?" The steady voice of his angel did little to stem the anger bubbling in him. Usually it would calm him down in any situation but he was too high-strung to let it help.

"That new cook dared to lay a hand on me." He sat up enough for Aziraphale to see the red mark on the side of his face. The angel lifted a hand and passed a gentle thumb over his cheek; taking away all the physical damage he could. Crowley flopped back down into the pillow with a grunt, the glare of his lessening just a smidgen. 

"Did you do something about it, or shall I?" It wasn't often Aziraphale did something even close to violent; Hell, Crowley could count how many times he'd seen it on one hand. But it made his chest warm to know the angel would go against everything in his morals to avenge him. 

"No need, Angel. I took care of it." He looked away from the angel to stare at the glasses sitting next to him on the bed. "Every time he goes to touch somebody his hands will burn as though he was holding them in a fire." 

All he heard from the angel was a hum before the sound of an opening book filled the space. Crowley closed his eyes and reburied his face in the pillow that smelled so much like Aziraphale even though he doesn't sleep. He knew he couldn't hide in the little cottage for long but God be damned if he didn't spend the next two hours just listening to his angel.

After that first incident of someone touching her without her permission it didn't happen again for a while. The lewd comments and wandering gazes didn't leave but they never passed that point. She got two more years of peace, or as much peace as one could get when practically raising a young boy. Vincent mysteriously got fired a few months after Warlock's seventh birthday, but she didn't look to closely at it.

Every time she got free time away from Warlock she made sure she was near Brother Francis in some way. Be it sitting out in the garden while he worked or in the cottage with Aziraphale. She was spending so much time with him that rumors started to circulate around the staff of the house. At first she didn't hear anything about it until she overheard one of the maids whispering to the new cook. Most of the staff seemed to think they were dating; or according to some of the men, "Fucking in that grubby cottage, they are." Like every other thing said about her, she ignored it. And she would have continued to ignore it if it wasn't for the fact that one of garden hands brought up the rumors to Francis. 

"How did you get that frigid bitch to put out for you?" The question cut through the peaceful air in the garden. Ashtoreth was sitting just under an apple tree, out of the way of Francis but close enough to make conversation if they wished, reading another book recommended to her. She was close to falling asleep when the question startled her. Sharp eyes moved to where Charles was leaning on a rake next to Francis as he watered the hedges. His gaze moved from the dirty gardener to glance at her. The hungry look in his eyes made her want to shudder and take a shower while simultaneously make him walk into the pond and never come out. 

"I beg your pardon?" Francis lost his accent for just a second as his head shot up to the man next to him. Looking away from them, she went back to the book sitting in her lap with no intention to continue reading. 

"Lilith. Sexy cunt that takes care of the brat. And spends every moment with you." The disgust she hadn't felt in so long washed over her along with something heavy settling on her chest. "How does she like getting fucked? Always thought tying her up to the bed would be it." Her eyes moved back to the pair to see Charles still watching her; knowing she could hear every word he was saying. An icy glare was leveled at him but like he knew she was staring he licked his lips and winked. It's not often she got the urge to vomit but right there she almost did.

"That is no way to talk about a lady." Her attention was drug to where Francis was getting to his feet and moving to block Charles' line of sight. Like a weight being lifted off her shoulders, tense muscles relaxed and she leaned back against the tree. "You should be ashamed of yourself for thinking that way. If were up to me I would have you fired. Get out of here." 

She watched as Charles wandered off, while muttering to himself, with relief. The violation she felt from being near him was lessening with every step he moved farther away. Looking away, she found Francis coming to sit down next to her on the grass. He didn't say anything for a while and neither did she as she went back to the book that was long forgotten. When the silence stretched on for a few minutes too long Francis sighed.

"Does every male here talk about you like that?" She didn't look up from the book or make to answer him for a while. Then she closed the book and looked over to dirty gardener that was more Aziraphale now than Brother Francis.

"I can handle it, Angel." 

"I didn't ask if you could handle it, Crowley." The angel reached up and pulled off his hat to ring it in his hands. He couldn't meet her eyes and instead watched something across the lawn. "Have they...have they always talked like that?" Ashtoreth slouched against the apple tree in a much more Crowley like manner. She thumbed the book pages while trying to find a way to break the truth to the angel. 

"Yes. It's gotten worse over the years but thankfully things haven't escalated too far." If they do then well, no body can hold her accountable for what happens after. 

"We've influenced the boy enough to leave. It would only do good if we stopped working here," Aziraphale said. He finally met her eyes and she could see how much he wanted her to get out of this environment. 

"Give it another year, Angel. Then we can leave." 

Despite his disapproval, Francis went back watering the plants. Ashtoreth stayed out with him for another hour before deciding to head back into the house for some tea. It was still early in the afternoon which meant Warlock wouldn't be done with his tutors for at least another hour, and left her with nothing to do. She could see where Aziraphale was coming from in leaving. As Warlock got older he needed a nanny less and a teacher more; and she just couldn't make it as a teacher. Their time spent together was getting shorter and would continue to grow smaller until she left. But she tried to not let it bother her. 

Once she crossed the threshold into the house something pressed her against the wall. A scoff left her as she shoved whoever it was away from her; no one had the right to handle her like that. She glared up at Charles as he continued to be in her personal space. His hand was pressed to the wall next to her head while the other was holding her arm loosely. Like the last time someone grabbed a hold of her she ripped her arm away from him; unlike last time though, he didn't try to grab it again. Instead he leaned in closer to her face with a smirk on his lips.

"What is that old man doing for you that I can't? Cause I can make sure you cum over and over again for hours," he purred. A sick feeling crawled up her throat and almost made her gag. She shoved him away from her with a lot less force than she was planning. Something was clawing at her chest and settling on her skin where he had grabbed her. 

"It would do you well to leave me alone, Mr. Vand." Her voice wasn't nearly as threatening as she wished it to be, but she didn't stay around long to find out it Charles cared or not. 

It wasn't even a full year. 

Warlock had turned nine and the end of July was coming near; along with the time she would have to leave. Things had been discussed with Aziraphale and they had put in their resignation letters already. They were going to be leaving in the middle of August and going back to their lives in London while occasionally checking in on the boy. She was already packing up her room and helping her angel do the same with the cottage. The days were going by slowly but she didn't mind. 

Just a week before they left the maids decided to bring out the Dowling's alcohol for her. They were all sitting in the kitchen with empty wine bottles littering the table; several of the girls had disappeared into the house as the night wore on. She was still drinking with a maid named Krystal that she spent a fair amount of time with when a clock further in the house chimed. One glance at her watch told her it was close to three in the morning, but she was too drunk to tell the actual time. After relaying the time Krystal decided it was time to get to bed; which she couldn't disagree with. 

They cleared away the bottles before heading into the rest of the house. Ashtoreth didn't much feel like getting sober and continued to sway up the stairs and down the halls to her room. A haze was starting to cloud her thoughts the closer she got to her room; a haze that she knew had nothing to do with the wine. In her muddled mind she knew this was probably bad, but she couldn't find the energy to focus on the thought. Instead she slipped into her room and flopped onto the giant bed. 

Through the haze she could feel eyes watching her as she fumbled with the waistcoat she was wearing. She had ditched her usual coat half way through the night and it was probably still sitting on the table. Just as she was about to give up someone else's hands took her place. Squinting up through her glasses she could just barely make out a figure standing over her in the dark. A spark of something close to fear shot through her before she was trying to scramble away. Whoever was with her just laughed and held her down with a heavy hand pressed against her stomach. She tried to push off the hand but something was inhibiting her strength and general awareness. 

She did her best to try and get sober like she used to do, but her power wasn't working. Any of the collectiveness she knew was being replaced by panic. Nothing like this had happened before. 

"God, you look just as nice as I thought you would." The man's breath brushed over her now exposed chest; that she didn't even notice was missing every piece of clothing covering it. Strong hands pulled her up on the bed before something was being tied around her wrists. 

She struggled against the bonds weakly while kicking out her legs the best she could. That didn't last long as her shoes, tights, and skirt were soon pulled off. She opened her mouth to try and shout but found her tongue too heavy to move. _No, no, no, please. What is this?_ Her foot struck out hard enough to catch something in its path and got a pained cry. Any satisfaction she got was wiped away by the sharp slap hitting her face. A hand caught her chin and held it tight enough to bruise. She looked through her glasses to see Charles glaring down at her; blonde hair almost white in the light of the moon and clear blue eyes. _Aziraphale? What are you doing? _

"Let's see what those eyes of yours look like." A voice that didn't sound anything like the angel spoke but didn't break the illusion. The hand let go of her chin only to reach up and pluck her glasses off her face. Wide, yellow snake eyes flitted from the blue eyes to the white hair and back again. "Wow, they are as exotic as I imagined. Not like this, but damn if that doesn't make me hard just seeing them." 

_Exotic? But you already know what my eyes look like?_ She shook her head as if to be rid of the thoughts but only drew attention to her hair. Both hands went up to the perfectly pinned back curls and started undoing them. Several pins were tossed to the floor as the long red curls were pulled free to be splayed out on the bed. One hand buried itself into the soft strands while the other moved down to clutch her chin again. Her head was tilted back until lips were placed on hers. She tried to turn away but she was held steadfast by the tightening grip on her chin. A sharp tug on her hair had her opening her mouth unwillingly, but it was enough for a tongue slide passed her lips. It moved as if mapping out the entire inside of her mouth. She tried to bite down on it but she didn't have enough strength in her jaw to do any damage. The only thing that action brought was a harder tug on her hair and a groan from the man. 

_Why can't I do anything? What is happening, Aziraphale? Why are you doing this? _ The mouth being crushed against hers pulled away only to be replaced by two fingers. She gagged against the offending digits but could do little to fight them. The hand in her hair disappeared before dragging down her chest to where the last article of clothing she was wearing still sat. A noise of protest left her throat but it was blocked by the fingers in her mouth. _Fuck, no, please. Please!_ Her underwear was pulled away and tossed somewhere she couldn't see. 

"I'm gonna fuck your cunt so good. You'll never be able to be with another man." Tears gathered in her eyes but didn't drip down her face. The fingers in her mouth slipped out before being trailed over her vagina. She tried to close her legs against him but they were pushed and spread apart despite her trying. One finger pushed in soon followed by the second and tears started falling. 

She tried to not think about was happening but the sound of pants hitting the ground had her trying to scramble away. The fingers that were still in her pulled out and grabbed onto her waist. The harsh grip did little to stop her from trying to get away until it tightened enough to make her cry out quietly; still not having enough control over her mouth to do much more. A laughed sounded from above her before a heavy weight was being pressed down on her. She kept her eyes screwed shut to not have to seen the familiar face looming over her. To not have to see the white hair and blue eyes of the angel that she knew would never do this, but couldn't stop thinking he was. 

Whatever she was trying to ignore went out the window the second something started pressing into her. Pain erupted from her vagina that continued to build and spread. Sobs left her mouth as she tugged at the bonds holding her hands back. The tight grip on her waist grew tighter as his other hand went to tangle into her curls. He leaned down and captured her mouth once again in a bruising kiss. _I'm a demon, God, please! Why is this happening? What did I do so wrong to be punished like this? _ The man pulled out before thrusting back in with more force than before. Her cry of pain was muffled by his mouth but did little to stop the next one as he thrust in again. _Fuck, I'm a demon. This shouldn't be happening. I should be able to do something! _

"God, you're so fucking tight. And you fit around me like you were made for this." He moved away from her mouth to suck and bite at her neck while continuing to thrust in and out. It pulled and ripped with how dry she still was. But she could feel her body reacting to the sensations in ways she wished it wouldn't. She didn't want this. 

_Why? Whatever drug he used shouldn't effect me like this! I'm not even human! _ A swirl of hips had her sobbing louder and trying to move away from him. The hand on her waist pushed her down into the bed to stop from squirming. If anything her moving was bringing groans and grunts from the man above. 

"I'm so close. Fuck!" Another harsh thrust and he was burying himself in as far as he could. Liquid shot out and filled her with revulsion. The man didn't bother pulling out before rocking against her once more. 

_Nonononono, no. I am a God damned demon! This shouldn't be happening. Why can't I do anything?! _ A sharp pull on her hair brought her head back enough for the man to start biting under her chin. The new added slickness made the thrusting easier on her but she just wished he stop and leave. Instead he continued to kiss and bite and thrust; and her body was starting to respond despite her not wanting it too. _I'm a demon. I should be able to fight this. _<strike>Maybe you don't want too.</strike>

She started sobbing harder as felt a pressure building in herself. This shouldn't be happening, she shouldn't be reacting like this. 

As if knowing what was happening the man started making sharper thrusts that made her clench around him. A groan was drug out of him that was muffled into her chest. Along with the release that she didn't want came burning shame. It washed over her in waves as the man released into her again and guilt came to join in with self-loathing. _I should've stopped this somehow. Fucking demon that couldn't do anything! _ She wriggled under the man to try and get him off of her. He just drew her into another kiss while slowly pulling out of her. 

"Maybe next time you won't have to be tied down." He mumbled against her lips as he pulled away. Without even bothering to undo her bonds, he slipped on his pants and nipped at her chin once more before disappearing from the room.

She didn't know how long she laid there just staring at the ceiling. The light had changed in the room and whatever drug that was coursing through her was gone when she even blinked. A shiver wracked her body as she flicked her finger and the bonds holding her hands were released. As if in daze she miracled away the mess he made in her body but left his marks on her skin. She put on some pants and a plain shirt, not even bothering with shoes or socks, and sat back down on the bed. Her curls were a tangled mess that hung limply over her shoulders. Snake eyes stared down at the irritated skin on her wrists like it had the answers she wanted. The answers to the shame, guilt, self-loathing, revulsion, and disgust that coated her body like his marks. 

Without receiving an answer she flicked a hand and everything that was hers in the room disappeared. Not even sparing a thought for Aziraphale still in the cottage or the week of work she still had, she left the Dowling residence. She appeared back in her flat, back in her bedroom with her black silk sheets and giant bed covered in a silver comforter. Every ounce of energy left in her body fled and she burrowed herself under the blankets on her bed. Sobs racked her body as she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to provide comfort. She had never felt so violated in her life. What had she done to deserve that? What could she have possibly done? Why couldn't she just fight it? Why didn't she try harder? She's a demon, that never should have happened. How could she let it happen? How could she get off on what he had done? Why did she let this happen? This was her fault, right? She's the infernal being, the immortal with power that could kill him with a mere flick of a wrist. And yet where was that power? Where was that power when he started touching? 

For hours she just laid sobbing in her bed until she finally fell asleep. But even in her dreams she couldn't escape what had occurred. His face haunted her, his touch, his kiss, his hands all over her that she couldn't stop. The pain and humiliation kept her pinned to the bed. 

Days passed before she even got up to shower. And she scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin to try and wash away him. To get his scent out of her nose and his touch off her skin. She stayed in that shower well passed when the water got cold and into when it got warmer again. She sat curled up on the tiled ground with her arms wrapped around her legs with the spray raining down on her head. Red curls were plastered to her face and back. Then with severe difficulty she picked herself up off the ground to shut off the water. Once toweled off she skipped out on clothes as she curled back up under her blankets.

A numbness had settled over her. She couldn't stop replaying what had happened and couldn't feel anything other than burning shame. She didn't hear the phone ringing almost every hour nor did she remember the plants in the corridor. When she wasn't awake asking herself and God questions, she was asleep. The nightmares had stopped just by her merely thinking about it, because she didn't even need sleep. And when she went to sleep she didn't even bother figuring out how long she slept. It could have been an hour to a few days and she still didn't care. Her tears had dried awhile ago. Her body didn't have the energy to make something she didn't need. She had stopped breathing as well just to be left in silence. Since she got out of the shower she had yet to leave the bed or the nest of blankets shielding her from the outside.

At some point a loud knocking had drug her up from her slumber. She didn't know who it was or how long they had been knocking, but she didn't care. She ignored it in favor of curling back up in a ball to go back to sleep. But the knocking moved from her flat door to her bedroom door. If someone was talking she couldn't hear it, but she could hear the echoing of knocks. For the first time in however long she breathed a sigh and pulled herself from the bed. She was still without clothes but she couldn't care less. Her quiet steps took more out of her than she had felt she had in a long time. She pulled open the door without caring who was standing outside of it. Upon seeing the worried face of Aziraphale she shuddered and almost closed the door in his face. But she knew it wasn't him that did this to her even as her body determined he was.

"Crowley! Are you alright? It's been months since I've heard from you, my dear." Months, huh? The angel finally looked up to her face and drew in a sharp breath. "What happened to your face?" Blue eyes trailed lower to the rest of her naked body. "Who did this to you?"

She looked down at her body to see fresh bruises in the shape of a hands on her hips and dark spots marring her pale flesh. If she had to guess her neck was covered in bruises as well as her chin with a hand print on the left side of her face. Her subconscious must have kept his marks on her skin as a reminder of what she had allowed to happen. Looking away from the bruises she met Aziraphale's worried blue eyes. 

"No one. Someone." Even to her own ears she could hear to dullness in her tone. Instead of saying anymore she left the door open to go back to her bed. She heard the angel follow but she ignored him in favor of curling back up under her sheets. The weight of him sitting on the edge of the bed didn't go unnoticed nor did the hand sitting far too close to her leg for her liking. 

"Crowley, what happened? You go missing for half a year and I find you hiding in your flat covered in bruises." The hand on the bed inched closer to where her leg was resting under the blankets much to her discomfort. 

"Don't touch me." The venom in her voice surprised even her. But it did the trick as the hand moved back and away from her. She pulled the blankets tighter over her head and curled in as close to herself as she could. A burning started in the back of her throat that she hadn't felt in a long time. 

"Who did this? How long have the bruises been there?" Despite his concerned and worried voice she continued to ignore him. She tried to go back to sleep but it was like her body was on high alert. With another person in the room with her made in nigh impossible to relax, and that person being male only made it worse. When it got to the point that she knew he wouldn't leave until he got an answer was when she spoke up; voice still dull and tired.

"Someone. Six months apparently."

"The bruises have lasted that long?" The shuffling of him moving on the bed made her tense. But he settled down soon enough and she knew he was facing her with a leg up on the bed.

"No. Never went away, couldn't let them go." She sniffed harshly to try and stop herself from crying. It did little to help as tears slipped down her face at the reminder of what she allowed to happen. 

"Why? What happened, my dear?" A sob escaped her mouth that she tried to muffle into the blankets surrounding her. It didn't help the way her body started shaking or even with the crying that much. She didn't bother trying to wipe the tears away and instead pressed her face into her knees. "Oh, my dear. I'm sorry." The bed shifted again but he didn't try to touch her. They sat in silence for a few minutes while she tried to stem to sobs. It took a while but soon she was only sniffling and shivering under the blankets.

"Charles Vand." Her voice sounded so defeated and weary that she couldn't believe it was hers. A sharp inhale come from the angel next to her but she ignored it. "A week before we were supposed to leave. Some of the maids that I spent time with wanted to have a going away party, I guess. We drank so many bottles of wine that I lost count. It was close to three in the morning when Krystal and I decided to call it and go to bed. We cleared the table before going our separate ways. I should've know something was wrong sooner than I did. I couldn't feel my body and I was swaying more than I usually did. When I got to my room some kind of haze had blocked most of my thoughts and movements. I didn't know he was there until he was taking off my clothes. I tried to fight, I did. But it was no use." She poked out an arm to show the angel the raw skin on her wrists. When she felt him moving to touch her she pulled it back under the blankets. "He-he took off my glasses and undid my hair. I tried, I tried. But it was no longer him that I could see. Blonde hair so light it was white and clear blue eyes watching me. I tried, I swear I tried. I prayed and pleaded to know why. I couldn't understand why you'd do this, why God would allow it to happen. I knew somewhere it wasn't you, I knew. But it didn't help. Whatever that drug was stopped all rational thoughts and it was just you. Until it wasn't anymore. It was him and his touch and his kiss and his bite and my shame, my guilt, my fault. I'm a fucking demon, I should've been able to do something. Anything to make him stop. But I couldn't do more than cry and beg." 

Sobs were racking her body again and heaving for breath that she didn't need. Her fingers curled around the blankets and pulled them away from her face; allowing her to breath in the cool air of her room. She kept her eyes shut as she pressed her head back into a pillow and tried to stop crying. Her chest hurt and her body ached while simultaneously feeling too hot and cold for her to handle. 

"It's not your fault, my dear. None of what happened is from your doings." Aziraphale's voice pierced through the fog clouding her mind just enough for her steady her breathing. She listened closely to his breathing pattern even though neither of them needed to breathe. Tears still dripped down her face and she refused to open her eyes, but she did flip over. Instead of facing away from the angel she laid her head on his knee to feel some kind of contact that she initiated instead of being forced into. "Can I touch you?" She shook her head no and pulled her knees closer to her chest. "Well, then I think it's fair to say that Mr. Vand is dead. He was found in the hallway leading to the kitchen the same day you disappeared." 

"Who did it?" 

"I think you know the answer to that question. And it wasn't me, my dear." 


End file.
